<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>apotelésma by thedevilsbasement</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29072676">apotelésma</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilsbasement/pseuds/thedevilsbasement'>thedevilsbasement</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:08:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,369</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29072676</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilsbasement/pseuds/thedevilsbasement</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Before the Black City incident he had been writing on a philosophical discussion concerning the concept of <em>karma</em>. Now, centuries later, he had been able to finish said writing. For himself. In his mind only. Because no one would catch him dead using the words necessary to finish the following sentence:</p><p> </p><p>  <em>Karma is-</em></p><p> </p><p>The Architect attended the Conclave. Sort of. He doesn't really remember, is confused and overwhelmed, but writing passive aggressive letters to Warden Commander Surana <em>does</em>  help. He might not send them, though.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>apotelésma</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So, this is the first thing I started writing in quite a while, so it probably needs some improvement. And English isn't my native language, but the thing is, I really, really want to write this thing. So, if you spot obvious grammar, spelling or storytelling, please let me know.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He was running, fleeing, throwing spells over his shoulder in the general direction of the creature hunting him. Always a step length ahead of him the faith spirit from before, as terrified  as he himself, also, fleeing, trying to reach the rift hovering somewhere in the distance. And suddenly he felt like he  was being thrown and the smell of dust, fire and burning flesh felt his senses. The Wardens were gone, so was <em>he</em>, there was no other blighted creature in the area. At least none he could detect and there were soldiers approaching him. All sounds were just slightly off and his veins were burning. Breathing unevenly he tried to stand up -when did he fall anyway?- to defend himself, but his vision turned white and then black.</p><p>The first thing he realized, when he regained consciousness, was that, who had taken him prisoner and clapped him in irons, did use just that. No silvererite, no magic suppressing enchantment, no magebane. No, just iron. Not Corypheus then.<br/>
Wait, why did he even consider Corypheus as his captor in the first place? What happened to the Wardens? No, not Wardens, either. Corypheus, Wardens. It felt like there was a connection he was missing. No, not a connection, a giant chunk of his memory, apparently. That was the second thing.</p><p>The third was the green, glowing, pulsing and of <em>elven magic</em> reeking <em>thing</em> on his left hand.</p><p>He may have physically entered the Fade, walked the halls of the Black City and fearlessly stared Neria Surana down during one of her nightly kitchen raids but, alas, it was a bit of green light stuck to his hand that made him panic. He wasn't entirely sure when exactly, but he had started laughing hysterically, hiding his face behind slender, long-clawed hands, breaking the manacles in the process. </p><p>Oh, and there was the fourth thing. He was surrounded by four men in armor, who had their swords in their hands but were probably not that dangerous. Who he should probably put to sleep, to keep them not dangerous. So he did cast <em>and partly from the fade at that</em> and he heard the soldiers dropping on the floor around him, his laughter getting strangely high pitched turning finally into sobs. </p><p>When they came to question him, he wasn't crying anymore but still hiding behind his hands, trying to regain composure. The door creaking, when they entert.</p><p>“Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now.” A woman with Nevarran accent snarled. He heard her approaching, her shoes loud on the stone floor, her armour clanking. He didn't move. “The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except for-” her steps stopped and she faltered “Wait, what happened in here?”</p><p>He should explain, he wanted to explain, but-</p><p>“Asleep. Not dead.” Another woman said. Orlesian, maybe?</p><p>“I tried to keep them alive,” he said as he finally found his voice again “so sleep seemed to be the safest option. For everyone involved, I might add, since they were pointing their weapons at me.”</p><p>Lifting his head and opening his eyes he flinched. The door was still open and flooding his surroundings with sunlight, the silhouette of the woman in plate armor a stark contrast to the bright background.</p><p>Without further warning she closed the distance and grabbed his arm. The green <em>thing</em> on his hand <em>flared</em>.</p><p>“Explain this,” she hissed as she twisted his wrist to a position that would have probably hurt anyone who wasn't a darkspawn. Non-tainted joints just weren't made for that angle.</p><p>“I can't,“ he tried, as he slowly twisted his way out of her hold.</p><p>“What do you mean you can’t?”</p><p>“What I mean is, that I might have a basic idea of what this could be, that it is probably elven, is fade related,” he paused, for effect only, “and it definitely doesn't belong into a living body. How it got on my hand is a mystery to me, though.”</p><p>“You-” she grabbed him at the front of his robes and yanked him forward. Probably preparing to throw a punch, but the other woman intercepted. “We need them, Cassandra.” Her voice was gentle and soothing and <em>made his skin crawl</em>.</p><p>“So…” he started, but trailed of again. This wasn't in the job description he was given. <em>Team up with the Warden Commander they said, it would be fun they said.</em></p><p> “Do you remember what happened? How this began?” not-Cassandra asked.</p><p>“I was running from… some sort of fade creature? And there was a spirit with me. Faith, I think? It had assumed the form of an elderly woman-”</p><p>“A spirit disguised as a woman?”</p><p>“Faith spirit. Yes. It, for lack of a better word, pushed me through the rift. And then there were soldiers. Your soldiers, I assu-” The last syllable was overshadowed by the sound of a minor explosion outside the building.</p><p>“Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take <em>it</em>,” she waved her hand in his direction “to the rift.” </p><p>And there he had thought -unironially- that the <em>taint part</em> of his existence was irrelevant for once.</p><p>Leliana left.</p><p> </p><p>Cassandra eyed him wearily as he stood up and dusted his robes. </p><p><em>Well</em>, he mused, <em>they haven’t burnt me on the stake, yet. </em></p><p>“I know it is not my place to ask questions. But... what <em>did</em> happen?”</p><p>“It… It will be easier to show you.”</p><p> </p><p>When they stepped outside, he had to shield his eyes. Spending most of his life in the deep roads, didn’t really prepare him for looking up into the sky. On second thought, he wasn’t sure <em>what exactly</em> would prepare someone for the giant hole in the sky, <em>in the veil, </em>he saw when his vision had adjusted.</p><p>“We call it <em>The Breach.</em> It’s a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour.” he stared at her, started to lift his hand as if to say something. “It’s not the only such rift. Just the largest.” His shoulders sagging, he curled his fingers again- “All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave.” -and let his arm fall to his side.</p><p> </p><p>‘That doesn’t sound like something an explosion should be able to cause.”</p><p>Cassandra made a sound of disgust. “This one did. Unless we act, the Breach my grow until it swallows the world.”</p><p>He shifted his gaze towards the breach again, which flared and so did the mark and it <em>hurt, burning, burning, turning inside out, bursting-</em></p><p>He found himself on his knees again, looking up at Cassandra.</p><p>“Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads…” she said, grabbing him again. This time to help him to his feet. Which was awkward. “and it is killing you. It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn’t much time.”</p><p>“I will definitely do what I can to help to close it. But I have to admit I have not even a hypothetical approach so far.”</p><p>“Then try to think of one, before we get there.”</p><p>And with that she started to drag him through the camp, people were glaring, but keeping their distance.</p><p>“They have decided your guilt. You being what you are doesn't help your case.” she explained as she sped up. “They need it. The people of Haven mourn our Most Holy, Divine Justinia, head of the Chantry. The conclave was hers. It was a chance for peace between mages and templars. She brought their leaders together. Now they are dead.”</p><p>A gate was opened by soldiers and Cassandra -and by extension- him, did not slow down once, not even for the fraction of a second. His lounges started to disagree, but he didn’t complain.</p><p>“We lash out, like the sky. But we must think beyond ourselves, as she did. Until the Breach is sealed.” </p><p>Still no slowing down. </p><p>“Where are you taking me?”</p><p>A scout scrambled out of their way.</p><p>“Your mark must be tested on something smaller than the breach.”</p><p>“I can't promise I will be able to do something with it.”</p><p>He slipped, but managed not to fall. Cassandra stopped and turned to face him, the corner of her mouth twitching.</p><p>“That’s why we call it testing.”</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>